With You
by falseking
Summary: "Leave? What do you mean 'leave?" "I mean exactly what it sounds like," he argued back. His body now hunched forward, shoulders tense as bruised hands gripped the nightstand for dear life. "You need to go." A oneshot for Dean/OC


**I don't own anyone in SPN just the random OC.**

Another sigh passed my lips, fogging up the cold glass my cheek rested against. The pressure of it causing me to wince, but the icy feel bringing relief to the fire dancing beneath my skin. Though that was all it could help. Just my bruised cheek while the rest of my body cried out in pain. Every little bump in the road would only heighten the pain and it took everything in me not to vocalize how badly I was hurt. It wasn't all about me and I definitely wasn't the only one wounded after killing the werewolves. The two men up front were both equally battered and dead silent, their eyes stern and staring straight forward.

The air was tense and I had no idea as to why. We managed to kill the sons of bitches and make it out alive. Wasn't that something to be happy about?

The younger one had tried to make light conversation early on, only to be shut down by his brother with a simple look and since then, no one's said a word and I didn't want to be the one to break the calm. So I remained in the back, legs spread out lazily, unable to feel my feet or the hands that hung limp between my knees.

I looked down to the poor, beaten, flesh bound tools, frowning as the passing street lights lit up the mess that I actually was. My already dirty jeans had been torn and splattered with a mix of blood, my palms immediately stinging as I raised them to analyze the road burn. Mud had stained nearly ever inch of me. Starting at my shoes and making its way up to my torso, smearing across the exposed skin when I tried to scrub it away.

Despite the fact that we were staying in a motel and motels were disgusting just by nature, I was daydreaming of the moment when I could sit in the germ infested tub and let the hot water wash away the muck.

And when the Impala slowed to a stop, the faint glow of the dying sign stretched out over us, I couldn't help but smile a little. Though it quickly vanished once I began to move.

With teeth gritted and a hiss passing my lips with every motion, I struggled my way up to the door, falling behind Sam while Dean remained close behind me, holding the door open so that I could ease in without raising a single finger.

It's funny.

No matter how pissed off, his gentlemen side (which he continues to deny its existence) still manages to show. I suppose it came naturally when you were in love.

Once the door had been closed, Sam had shed his jacket onto the back of the nearest chair before turning, giving us a questioning look.

Cracking a small smile, I gave him a nod. "Go ahead, Sam." He thanked us, rushing off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him and once he was gone, I began to shed my own mess, leaving myself in only my jeans and undershirt. As I tossed them into a bag I had mad specifically for incredibly dirty clothes, I found that Dean had yet to move from his place just in front of the door. His stern eyes locked on the ugly, orange carpet, lips pursed into a thin line.

"Dean?"

The only reaction I received was his fist growing slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white.

"Hey, Dean," I tried once more. Leaning over so that I was in his line of sight, snapping next to his ears. "Snap out of it." I finished with a smile, though it threatened to fall when he finally looked to me, spine now straight and expression the same. "What's up with you, baby?" "Nothing," he replied lowly. Barely parting his lips to speak. "I think I know you well enough to know that you're full of shit."

With a roll of his eyes, he moved past me, tossing the supply bag onto the bed, along with his jacket. "You wanna tell me what's been bothering you all night?"

"It's nothing, okay? It's-" He paused. The words getting caught in his throat as he stared off at the bland walls, deep in thought before sudden somber eyes fell back down.

"I-I think you should leave."

Over the years, I had created a mental list of all the things that could have dragged Dean down, emotionally. I was expecting many different replies but this..

This was not one of them.

"W-what?"

No words have ever cut me as deep as these ones.

"Leave? What do you mean 'leave'?"

"I mean exactly what it sounds like," he argued back. His body now hunched forward, shoulders tense as bruised hands gripped the nightstand for dear life.

"You need to go."

Floored. I was absolutely floored.

Devastation was quickly building in my body, taking my remaining strength and twisting it so that I was forced to use the desk for support.

Just the other day we were too busy wound up in one another to even notice that Sam was giving us the stink eye. We were in love, weren't we?

How could he..

How could he just do this?

"You serious? Y-you want me t-to leave?"

His response was struggled and incoherent, making me question his actual intention.

"Turn around, Dean."

He didn't budge.

"Dean, turn around and tell me to get the fuck out. Tell me to walk out of your li-!" "I don't want you out of my life!" He shouted as he whipped around, his chest puffed and teeth clenched. "I don't want you gone! Hell, I have enough trouble as it is when you leave for a weekend!" "Then what the fuck are you doing telling me to leave?!" I couldn't help but shove him backwards, absolutely livid that he nearly broke my heart. He of course, brushed off my attack like it was nothing and advanced.

"I don't want you out of my life. I want you out of danger! When that piece of shit jumped you I-I freaked out, okay? I freaked out! I thought that-I thought-" He sighed. Running a dirtied hand over his face, tugging downward on his skin. "The people I care about the most have a tendency to die, alright? So forgive me for thinking it'd be better if you went back home. Forgive me for thinking about your well-being! No one gets out once their in, baby."

The look in his eyes was enough to shatter me. He seemed genuinely hurt by the mere thought of watching me walk out that door, yet torn by my current state.

Beaten and worn.

A reminder to him that I should go.

"I thought that-that maybe if you got away from me, you'd have better chances at a normal, safe-" "Yeah but I don't want normal, Dean!"

His shoulders slumped, his gaze wounded as he looked to me, allowing me to continue.

"You honestly think I could just go back home and be totally fine? Dean, I would go mental and besides with or without you, I'd be here. I'd be on the same path I am right now! I don't belong at home, Dean. I don't belong at some motel across the country flying solo, wondering how my boys are doing."

He shed a small smile at that.

"I belong with you."

With careful and slow movements, I inched closer to him. First gripping his wrist and then working my way to entangle our fingers despite the pain.

"I belong at your side and I'm going to fight until my dying breath, as Hunters do."

His breath halted in his chest, clearly not pleased with the mention of my mortality.

Closing the space between us, I smiled as he gulped.

"But until then," I placed a kiss on his pouted, chapped lips.

"let's,"

Another kiss.

"live."

And one final lip lock that was a lot more rough than the last, eliciting a slight moan from his throat as he pulled me against him.


End file.
